Death is NOT Dead
by knifetoagunfight
Summary: Fix-it One-shot for Season 10 ending. Death is gone, but his Master isn't. And his isn't happy about the Darkness being let out of it's cage. Rate T for lang.


"What the bloody fuck is going on here?!" Harry shouted.

"What?" Dean asked.

"Who are you?" Sam reached for his gun. "How did we get here?"

"Well, unless you bloody Winchester's have suddenly developed the ability to teleport, I'm pretty sure it's really fucking obvious how you got here," snarked Harry.

"You?" asked Dean in disbelief. "What are you, 12?"

"I'm 35 you prat!" yelled Harry. "It's not my fault I'm short, ok? Now can somebody tell me who's brilliant idea it was to kill Death?!"

Sam and Dean shared a look.

"Uhh…"

"Dean then," Harry shook his head. "Merlin, you boys are more dysfunctional than my family, and that's saying something. Honestly, did you even think about what would happen? Or just wing it and hope for the best? Because I got to tell you, I did not want to have to suddenly take over old Corpse Breath's duties while he pieces himself back together after you scattered him across the known and unknown bloody fucking universe!"

"Wait, are you saying you're the new Death?" Sam asked.

"No, you idiot, I'm like the substitute that comes in while the teacher is on leave. I'm here for a while, but still not the real deal. Honestly, I got kids and a wife back home I've got to worry about!"

"Kids?" Dean said, surprised.

Harry nodded. "I was going about my day when suddenly I get this huge headache with all this information flooding into my brain so I knew what to do. And here I thought I got out of being Master of Death because I didn't keep the Resurrection Stone. Turns out, the numbskull thought I shouldn't know because it wouldn't affect me until I died and really took over. Now look what's happened! He's 'dead' and I'm stuck with cleaning up the Winchester's mess!"

Sam was having trouble processing all this information. Master of Death? Resurrection Stone? Before he could ask, Harry continued.

"I mean it's not as if I have anything better to do, right? Like, spend time with my wife, or raid a few warehouses, or run the joke shop, or visit with my kids, or anything else like that, right? Because the world has to bend around the will of the Winchester's yet again! Honestly and you wonder why the British don't like America much. With all the bonkers shit going on around here with you lot! Well, I think not! I'm going to get Chuck, the ultimate deadbeat dad, get the one Archangel you lot haven't gotten killed or locked in with Lucifer- and your brother; seriously, you both are massive hypocrites-, and shove that Darkness back into it's timeout corner, this time without a lock and key that can corrupt the fuck out of people. Then I'm going home to my wife. You idiots stay right where you are and don't bloody touch anything!"

He then promptly disappeared without a sound. Sam tried to digest all the information they'd just gotten, while Dean stared at his arm, still not sure he believed this wasn't all a dream the Mark was torturing him with.

"What just happened?" Dean asked the room.

Sam just shook his head.

After a while, they realized they should probably look around for an exit or something. They found themselves to be in a room similar to the white room good old Zach had held Dean in. The same room they last saw Adam as Adam. Without any more space to scoped out, they collapsed on the couch in the middle of the room. It was black in color, as was most things in the room.

"So," Sam started.

"I know, Sam. I'm not sure what happened. I guess I wasn't like Cain after all. I couldn't kill my brother."

"Yeah," Sam nodded, not sure what else to say. He chuckled lightly. "Man, I could really use a drink right now."

As soon as he said it, a tray with a bottle of what looked like whiskey and two tumblers on it popped into being on the black coffee table in front of them.

"Sweet!" Dean reached for the bottle. "What is this, 'Ogden's Firewhiskey'? Wonder why it's called that?"

They found out as soon as they took a sip. "Dear god what is in this shit?" Dean exclaimed even as he went to take another gulp, only to freeze when a familiar voice sounded through the room.

"Oh! Firewhiskey, awesome, gimme!" Gabriel materialized in between them on the couch and reached for the bottle, a glass already in hand. "Hello, boys. Miss me?"

"Gabriel," Sam breathed.

"The one and only!" Gabriel answered. "Now, Dean-o, no talking Big Daddy's name in vain like that. I hear from the lovely new MoD that he's on his way, so you best be respectful."

"The guy that brought us-," Sam started but Gabriel cut in.

"Yeah, Harry Potter! Man, I'm a big fan. I'm hoping he can sign my wings! For a human, his life is almost as epic and entertaining as yours are. I'm a really big fan of how he cheated Death a few times and killed his distant cousin. Before Heaven's descent, I heard talk of them dealing with the blasphemy that was Tom Riddle ourselves, but by then Lucy was stirring. They had bigger problems than a silly little soul splitter. Plus, we knew Harry Potter would fix it in the end."

There was a pause; Gabriel gulped some firewhiskey. Dean and Sam were still staring at the man between them in disbelief.

"But enough about that, what's new with you guys?"

"They let The Darkness out of it's cage, and Rowena almost made off with the Book of the Damned." Harry paused as they all turned to look at him, having just come through a door that wasn't there before. "By the way, I take offense to everything you just said about me, and no, I'm not signing anything, let alone those fluffy monstrosities."

"Well, an angel can try," Gabriel sighed, downing his glass of firewhiskey. "Dear old Dad finally going to be a main character in the this shindig, not just a guest appearance?"

"I've managed to convince him to come out of retirement," Harry smirked. His eyes glowed green and for the first time Dean didn't see a kid, but a grown man who had killed, and maybe even enjoyed it.

"Oo, scary face," Gabriel said, ruining things, as usual, Dean thought. "I have to say, you look incredibly sexy like that."

Harry glowered. "I'm married. With kids!"

Gabriel was not deterred. "I'll wait till you officially take on your MoD title, then. I can be patient."

Sam and Dean looked at him in shock. _Yeah, right_.

"Uh, no, you really can't," said Chuck, appearing in the doorway. "But it's okay, son, I didn't make you that way."

"Father," Gabriel stared. He hadn't seen his dad in years, a few thousand at least. Not since he encouraged him to go into 'witness protection'.

"Father!?" Dean exclaimed.

"Okay, seriously, you prats can discuss this later, I have plans this evening and would like to get this over with as soon as possible," Harry cut in, before they digressed.

"Authoritative, I like," Gabriel flirted, trying to remain relaxed in his Father's presence. He doubted any of the other angels, Archangels or otherwise, would've sensed their Father. His power was very, very muffled. The only reason he could was because he had always spent the most time with Dad out of all his siblings.

"Gabe, honestly," Harry sighed. "Moving on, Winchesters, you're human without any powers and therefore of no help. You're staying here. No arguments!"

Dean closed his mouth, deciding it wasn't worth the wrath of the short man to speak up. Sam didn't disputed the decision either. He was glad that, for once, they didn't have to do anything. No sacrificing, no dying, no nothing.

"We'll be right back. Don't do anything stupid," Harry eyed them for a second. He seemed to deem them innocuous enough to stride out of the room, not even waiting for the father and son presumably going with him.

"Well, boys, until next time," Gabriel wiggled his fingers at them as he left.

Only Chuck remained. He shifted awkwardly. "Uh, yeah, guys, I'll see you."

Dean tried not to glower at _**God**_ while he left the room. He didn't succeed.

"Uh, Dean. What just happened?" Sam looked at him, unsure. As much as Dean appreciated being looked on as the one with answers, the big brother, again, he had no idea how to respond.

"I don't know, Sammy. I don't know. But I think they're goin' to clean up our mess."

Sam sat there for a while, not saying anything. Then, "What now?"

"Now?" Dean attempted to be cavalier. "Well, I'm taking a fucking vacation after this is what now. You?"

"Yeah, same, probably," Sam nodded along.

They sat together some more, sipping more Firewhiskey and not talking. After an hour or so, it finally sunk in that they'd finished. There was no big bad, or Mark, or anything else to do, really. They could go back to hunting Wendigos and ghosts, or even retire. They sighed, relieved, and maybe even content, for the first time in a long time.


End file.
